Teeter
by Celestriakle
Summary: This is a story about Elliot. Rated T for language.


Teeter

The sun beat down hot upon Elliot's back as he sprinted across the asphalt, the basketball's rough surface dirtying and rebelling against his hand as he dribbled it down the court. There it was, the basket in sight; a quick dodge around an opposing teammate—truly his own, for this was only a scrimmage—and he would be there. It was only him and the asphalt, him and the basket, him and the ball. He leapt—allowed a brief respite from the heat as he flew through the air—then, _slam_!

The ball fell to the ground, and Elliot swung from the net before hitting the blacktop with a thud. Ten points, the end of the match: His side had won. He smiled as the world came back into focus, and his teammates came to cluster around him, congratulating and joshing amongst each other. "Nice job, Elliot." A slap on the shoulder accompanied the voice, and Elliot grinned in response to the arrival of one of his closer friends, Mike, as he smoothed his blue spiked hair back up into place.

"Thanks," he answered, then as a group, they walked back to the gate—for this particular court happened to be fenced in—as they reviewed the game, discussing strategy and each player's strengths and weaknesses. As they talked, bottles of water were passed around and time was lost; the game was long forgotten by the time Elliot noticed the sun was beginning to set. "Shit," he swore quietly before smiling around at his friends. "Hey guys, I need to get going; I'll see you all tomorrow, alright?"

He swung his duffel bag over his shoulder as one of his friends jeered, inciting a chorus of chuckles, "Gonna go waste some time with homework, are you?"

Elliot, however, took it in stride and merely smirked. "You know it. Hey, play nice, and maybe I'll help you not fail out of bio this semester." The comeback was received to a chorus of laughter and 'ooh's, and Elliot grinned as he turned out of the gate and walked away, following the fence.

"Hey!" Pausing, Elliot half-turned at the call. "I'll see you at the party this Friday, right?" asked Mike, and Elliot grinned.

"Of course!" he answered, but a quiet voice beside him drew away his attention.

"Ah! Y-yes…" The word came from the mouth of a boy standing right up against side of the fence near Elliot, only a year or two younger than Elliot himself by the look of it. He had a slight frame and a nervous, mousy face that was speckled with freckles and partially obscured by his curling light brown hair, but he was smiling. _"How long has he been standing there?"_ Elliot wondered. _"Weirdo…" _Adjusting the duffel bag on his shoulder, he paid the kid no more mind as he continued through the gate and walked home.

Friday night was a relief. Between the unending basketball practices, three quizzes, and one essay of the past week, Elliot relished the party atmosphere he now found himself in. Music blared, and all around him people were laughing, chatting, joking, daring, shouting. A whole group swarmed the barbecue on the edge of Mike's patio, but he stood with his teammates by the side of the pool. It didn't matter how many times he came to this place; he would never get over the vast magnitude of his friend's estate. It put his humble family home to shame and always left him in good spirits.

"H-hey there!" A high-pitched, trembling voice interrupted the laughter of Elliot's group, and all five of the present members fell silent at the sound of it. Ten eyes turned upon the mousy boy with the forced smile, and a flicker of recognition sparked in Elliot's. _"That kid from Tuesday's practice…"_ He could practically see the sweat gathering on the boy's brow in the sudden bubble of silence. Mike was the first to break it with a displeased frown and a question.

"Who are you?"

"I-I… um… My name's…"

"You're that kid who was at our practice the other day," interrupted Elliot. "Wait…" Pausing briefly as more details of the incident returned to him, he added with an amused grin, "When Mike shouted to invite me here, did you think he was talking to you?"

Looking to Elliot, the youth nodded quickly, but as the answer was met with a chorus of laughter, reddened and seemed to sink even further into himself. His voice hit an even higher pitch when he spoke again. "Y-you guys are really cool… I-I wanted to hang out with you… a-and…" His voice seemed to get strangled off there, but Mike interrupted as he got up and slapped a hand onto the boy's shoulder, eliciting a squeak from him and a few more snickers from the group.

"Kid, what's your name?" asked Mike. He was grinning now, and Elliot found the expression contagious. Normally, party crashers found themselves swiftly kicked to the curb, but his friend seemed to have something in mind for this one.

"J-Jerry…"

"Alright, Jerry! You can hang out with us, but under one condition. You have to prove yourself. After all, we can't let just _anyone_ into our group, can we? You have to be _cool_. Am I right?" A chorus of cheers and jeers from the group at the table told him yes. "Right. So…" His eyes scanned his audience for a forcible volunteer and settled as he asked, "Elliot, what do you think? How should he prove himself?"

Elliot started slightly at being put on the spot, and his gaze darted around as he thought. "Umm… Aha!" His eyes had alighted on the basketball hoop in the yard, and now smirking, he looked to Jerry. "We're all part of the basketball team, right? See that hoop over there?" He jerked a thumb in gesture to it. "All you have to do is make a basket." It sounded so simple. He paused for effect. "From the roof." The suggestion was met with a murmur of approval, and Elliot's smirk became a grin when Mike nodded. Jerry, however, had turned white.

"But I'm afraid of heights." His whisper was barely audible.

For Elliot, then, the joke was over. He knew his group had no intention of accepting this sorry kid, basket or not. He may as well let him off easy; Jerry can go home and come back when he was a bit cooler. Or a lot cooler. Whatever. Unfortunately, Elliot's group seemed to have no intention of letting it die there. Boisterous, Mike cried, "No, don't worry about it! It'll be easy. We've all done it at least once. You're cool, right?" A few other partygoers had been attracted to the scene, and they all concurred, even though Elliot knew for a fact that not a single one of them had ever set foot upon that roof. They pressed around Jerry and pushed him toward the house, egging him on. Everyone but Elliot wanted to see this.

He trailed along after the group with the intention of speaking against them, but when he opened his mouth, his voice shriveled and died away; his half-raised hand fell to his side. His heart beat unevenly in his chest. He didn't want his friends to turn on him. He didn't want to be like Jerry. He could only stare as a small group broke off from the main body and stormed up the stairs. A part of the tide, he followed the rest as they drifted back outside to watch.

The rest of the party was taking notice. Murmurs surrounded the initial group, and word of the dare was passed around as necks craned up. Eyes watched as the deathly pallor of Jerry's face appeared in a third story window, and his wide eyes met all of theirs. It briefly disappeared as the window opened, and one shaking sneaker touched the second story's roof tiles before the other did. He clutched the basketball to his chest, his back pressed to the wall behind him. He began to walk toward the basket.

Every slow step he took made Elliot's heart pound a little harder. He choked on his breath every time Jerry stopped and groped for balance. By the time Jerry reached the point most directly in front of the basket, Elliot's hands trembled too. Slowly, step by step, inch by inch, he watched Jerry adjust himself and finally turn his gaze on the hoop. The crowd had fallen silent. Staring at the hoop, Jerry wavered. He took a step back. Wrong move. The tile came loose, and Jerry lost his balance, falling onto his back and sliding down and off the roof's slope. Two screams rang in a chorus of gasps, one torn form the throat of Jerry and one comprehensible from the voice of Elliot, "NO!"

Jerry bounced off the eaves of the first floor. Elliot sprinted forward, shoving people out of his way, but a sickening crack preceded his arrival. Now others were screaming, but Elliot heard them as if through water. His legs turned to jelly, and he fell to his knees, only vaguely aware of people panicking around him. Blood pooled beneath Jerry's body. Someone cried, "Call 911!" but he could not discern who it was. He couldn't look at Jerry's face, wherever it was. His eyes were fixed on the growing pool of blood. Funny. It had never seemed so sickening in his video games. Spots flickered before his eyes as the world began to spin. His stomach churned, and he felt himself falling. The world faded to black, and the last thing he heard before he lost consciousness was the words, "Hello! Operator!?"

"...abe! Mike! I think..."

Blurred light filtered into the crack in Elliot's eyelids before he shut it out again. The voice that called him sunk back under the sea. But it was insistent, and he groaned as he opened his eyes. Three sets of eyes stared back at him. Mike, Gabe, and Aaron. "Wha... happen..?" he mumbled, head still thick with unconsciousness. Blinking a few times to try to clear it, he pushed himself up onto his elbow and looked around.

He was on the couch in Mike's living room, he saw, and silence reigned for a few moments before Aaron, seeing no one else was going to say it, muttered, "Jerry..." He left the name hanging, unwilling to finish. For a moment, Elliot stared, but then the memories came rushing back. Falling back onto the pillow, he groaned as bile welled up in his throat.

"I'm gonna be sick..!" he warned, and the group of boys immediately scrambled back as Mike jumped to his feet.

"Just hold on!" he shouted before bolting to the kitchen. Elliot moaned as he rolled over, pressing a hand to his face. Mike soon returned and shoved a plastic bag into his friend's side. Elliot snatched it away, and all three boys flinched back as he leaned over the edge of the couch, face in the bag. He inhaled; he readied himself for the heave, but though his stomach churned, nothing happened. He closed his eyes as he exhaled. He swallowed. With a soft groan, he rolled back onto the pillow, and the boys relaxed. "Dude, you okay?" Mike asked.

"Uh-huh..." Elliot sighed. "Jerry... How's he doin'?" His eyes slid to the group, who collectively shifted with discomfort.

"We dunno," answered Gabe. "The ambulance took 'im away earlier."

"The police are still here," said Mike. "They're gonna wanna talk to you."

"They talked to all of us," added Aaron.

Elliot nodded and sat up. "...Jerry's not going to... die, is he?" He cast pleading looks at the group, and they all recoiled, shaking their heads and objecting,

"No! He's gonna be fine!"

"Dude, don't say that kinda shit!"

"We didn't kill anybody!"

Looking into all of their eyes, Elliot dared a shaky smile. "Yeah... Yeah, you're right; he has to be okay." Hesitating a moment, he pushed himself off the couch and stood, but wavered. Struggling for balance. Mike immediately came to his side and put an arm around him, and Elliot clung to his friend until the ground stopped bucking beneath him. "Thanks..." he muttered. "I'm gonna go talk to the police." Releasing Mike, he took one uncertain step forward, then another. With more faith in himself, he walked forward, toward the voices he could hear in the kitchen, and when he reached the doorway, he paused and looked back. Three anxious faces refused to look at each other. From them, he heard not a word.

The silence stretched through Sunday. Elliot watched more television on that day than he had during the entirety of the past month. He left his bed exactly nine times.

Monday morning passed in a blur. Elliot sighed as he doodled on the edges of his page, biding time until the bell rang and he could go through the motions of yet another class. They weren't particularly _good_ doodles; Elliot had long ago learned that he was hopeless at art, but at least it kept his mind and hands busy. A sky full of stars, and a strange creature that appeared almost human, like something out of a dream...

A sudden hush fell over the class, breaking Elliot from his reverie. A scarcely audible creaking filled the silence. Looking up, his eyes widened, and he couldn't help but smile. _"Thank God, he's alive!"_ When Jerry stopped in the middle of the room, however, and looked out over the class, Elliot's smile disappeared, and his gaze dropped back down to his paper. His throat suddenly felt closed up. He didn't know Jerry was in this class with him. Then again, he didn't know Jerry existed at all until about a week ago. He heard the creaking of the wheelchair grow nearer, and he snuck a glance at Jerry. Both his legs were in casts, and half his body was scraped up and purple. If he saw Elliot, their eyes didn't meet. He rolled to his seat in the back of the class, and Elliot dragged his gaze to the front of the class. The bell rang, and class began.

It couldn't have ended soon enough. As soon as the bell rang for lunch, Elliot threw his books into his bags and quite nearly ran from the classroom. Soon, he showed up at the table his group had claimed, but the silence dashed any hope he had for normalcy. Casting an uneasy glance around, he took his place among them and started to eat. No one met each others' gaze. No one saw him coming. "Hey guys!" called an all-too chipper voice, and twelve sets of eyes looked up to see Jerry rolling to them, a tray of spaghetti on his lap.

"Who invited you?" asked Mike, and Elliot—along with a few others—shot him a surprised look. Jerry was included among them.

"I... I did what you asked, didn't I? I-I mean, no, I didn't make the basket, I guess, but I tried! Didn't I? I," he glanced down at his casts, then looked back to Mike, trying to smile as his eyes searched the other boy's face. "Look!" He gestured to the casts this time. "I proved myself, didn't I?" His smile was becoming more forced, and his brows were virtually stitched together.

Elliot could see Mike deliberating. Elliot could see Mike readying a denial. "Yes!" he blurted out. Mike shot him a filthy look, but he forced a warm and cheerful smile for Jerry and pushed on. "You did. Put your tray on the table; welcome."

Jerry beamed and rolled his chair a bit closer. "Thanks so much! You all know my name, right? Tell me yours!"

Thanks to Jerry's incessant prodding, some conversation began again at the table, but Elliot could scarcely relax between Jerry's puppy dog stares, Mike's irritated glares, and his own efforts at trying to keep the conversation alive. For once, he found himself thankful when the bell rang, but he wasn't out of the woods yet. As everyone scattered for class, Mike grabbed his shoulder and pulled him aside. "What the hell was that?" he asked, gesturing at the now empty table.

"Look, Mike, I'm sorry, but I couldn't tell him no! I felt bad for him."

"Elliot, I know; we all did, but you know as well as I do that he can't stay. He's not one of us; you heard him talking. So what're we gonna do with him now?"

"Ah..." Elliot gestured uncertainly. "Let's just..." He scratched the back of his head. "Let him stick around for a week—

"—A week!" Mike cried.

"Yeah, it'll mean a lot to him; I know it! Then we can give him the boot. His legs are _broken_, man, come on."

Mike groaned. "Fine. We'll keep him around for a week. But after that, _you_ have to tell him the truth. You got us into this mess, and you're gonna get us out, got it?"

"Yeah, yeah..."

Jerry followed them everywhere. Everyday, they saw him at lunch, and everyday, he waited for them at the school gates. Though he never played, he came to every practice and cheered on every teammate. After scrimmages, he would always come over and try to offer advice to the players, only to be soon silenced. The boys were growing annoyed. They didn't want his advice and thought he acted far too chummy with all of them. He couldn't decide whether he was bold or shy, and stuttered far too often to get anyone to listen for long. His questions were not welcomed, and no one was interested in the weird games he played, like Shen Megumi Tinsei or Alchemy: The Assemblage. No one, that is, except for Elliot.

On the day the week ended, Elliot's teammates were waiting for him outside his classroom. "It's time, Elliot. You've got to get rid of Jerry," announced Mike. "He's a loser and it's been a week; that's enough time for pity." Looking around at the faces before him, Elliot could spot conflict on some of them, but no one said a word. He looked back to Mike and nodded.

"I'll do it."

As always, Jerry waited at the gate. Elliot approached alone; the plan was for him to talk to Jerry while the others snuck out, and he would meet up with them later. Greeting each other with a smile and wave, Elliot said, "Hey Jer, mind if we walk? I'd like to talk to you."

"Yeah, sure Elliot!" Jerry wheeled alongside Elliot as he walked past, and after a few moments, both their smiles faded. Elliot struggled for words. Jerry prodded, "What was it you wanted to talk about?"

"The boys... and me too, kind of... we..." He glanced at Jerry and met his wide-eyed gaze. That was a mistake. He forced a smile. "were wondering if you would show me some of your Alchemy cards."

For a moment, Jerry stared. A nervous smile appeared on his face. "S-sure! I would have to go home to get my really cool ones, but you wouldn't mind waiting, would you? O-or maybe you'd like to come with me? To my house? Th-though we could skip it too; whatever you want to do. I think I have some with me..." Taking his bag off the handle of his chair, he started digging through it, and Elliot started regretting everything. He was digging himself a hole. A hole that went deeper and deeper and what was he going to tell the boys and god Jerry was so excited and

"Jerry we don't want you hanging out with us anymore." The words just spilled out.

Jerry froze. He looked up at Elliot and breathed, "What?"

Elliot swallowed and looked in the other direction. "You heard me. A lot of the guys think you're really annoying and they don't want you hanging out with us. I'm sorry."

"B-but... I th-thought—"

"—I know, I know, but the truth is that they just felt bad for you. We tried to give you a chance and it didn't work out. That's what I really came here to tell you. Sorry." He couldn't even look at Jerry's face before he bolted, running to his team's predetermined meeting place.

The next day, everything had returned to normal. Jerry was gone, and the entire team was sitting around the lunch table talking and laughing like nothing ever happened. Everyone except Elliot. He ate quietly, not saying a word as the conversations swam around him. His eyes were listless, unfocused, until a few words emerged from the laughter and caused him to tune in.

"Thank God he's gone!"

"Yeah, he was always—"

"Would you two shut up," Elliot sneered.

"Hey, lighten up over there," called Mike, an easy smile on his face. "Don't tell me you're still feeling bad."

"Nn," Elliot looked away and sighed.

"We gave the kid a chance, and it turned out he was a twerp, just like we thought; what's there to feel bad about?"

"He wasn't _that_ bad."

"Now, now, be real. He was a freak, and an annoying one at that. You heard the shit he talked about. Who cares? It's not like any of us are into that kinda stuff. We made him happy for a while, now let bygones be bygones. Forget 'im."

Elliot bit his lip a bit, then met Mike's gaze. "How would you know?"

"Huh?"

"How would you know if anyone here likes that kinda stuff? Anytime he brought it up you all just made jokes and laughed at him."

"C'mon, no one _really_—"

"I do. I have a collection of Alchemy cards in a box under my bed that I never get to use because you all think it's some weird nerd game." He was standing now, and the rest of the table had fallen silent. People were staring. Mike gave him a face.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. It's an awsome game; I've been into it for years, and I'm going to play with Jerry after school today. I'll see you guys tomorrow." Tossing his bag over his shoulder, he shot them all a scornful glare, then picked up his tray and walked off to find Jerry.

Every set of eyes at the table watched him go. A voice not oft heard piped up, "He's right." A boy stood. "I'm going with him."

"Me too." Another stood, and the first shot him an appreciative smile. Both ran to catch up with Elliot.

"Well?" Mike shot a glare around the table, but no one else said a word. A couple were starting to look bored. Apparently, that was all. Mike sighed and looked down at his food. Shaking his head, he muttered, "Oh Elliot, you idiot..."

"_Where is Jerry?"_ Elliot scanned the tables of chattering students as he walked by them. He had never thought that finding a kid in a wheelchair would be so hard.

"Hey, Elliot, wait up! We've decided to join you!"

The blue-haired boy stopped and turned at the call, and his expression broke out into a grin as he saw the two boys running to him. "Samuel! Dave!"

"We thought you were right, about Jerry, about Alchemy—at least, I did—so mind if we join you?" asked Samuel.

"Not at all! Man, you guys have no idea how happy I am to see you. I thought I'd really fucked up back there."

"You did," confirmed Dave, and Elliot laughed.

"Thought so. Come on, let's find Jerry."

They found him sitting alone. All three sat down across from him, and Elliot spoke for the trio. "We wanted to apologize."

"'m not interested," mumbled Jerry, who refused to look at them as soon as he saw who had joined him.

"Please, Jerry, we mean it. It was wrong for the others to lie to you. But for us," he cast a glance at each of the boys at his side. "it wasn't a lie. We really did grow to like you. We want to be your friend." He smiled hopefully.

Jerry looked up, examining each of the faces before him. "Why should I believe you?"

"I told off the entire team before coming here," admitted Elliot.

"Made a complete fool of himself," confirmed Samuel, causing a bit of colour to rise to Elliot's cheeks. "My big sister likes Alchemy. I always wondered what the big deal was. Plus, you're a nice kid. I dunno what got Mike's panties in a twist, or the others'. Then again, I never liked Mike much. I just hang out with him 'cause he's on the team and I love the game." His eyes shone at the thought of his favourite sport. "I always liked you better, Elliot." He smiled at the boy, who smiled back sheepishly. Elliot did not share his distaste for Mike.

Dave nodded. "We're telling the truth. We're here for you."

Jerry looked between them all in turn. A small smile appeared on his face. "Okay. If, if you really mean it."

"We do," Elliot confirmed. "Do you think we'd be able to come to your house for some Alchemy lessons? For real this time."

Jerry's smile grew. "Absolutely."


End file.
